Headfirst
by AppleR3
Summary: She is in between death and not yet, and as the door is suddenly thrown open, she weakly turns her head to the intruders and when she sees him, she thinks that in between death and not yet, she has found hope. She has found solace.


A/N: Hi guys! I'm really sorry if anyone is offended by this fic, it is purely fictional and there was definitely no intention to offend. It is a little darker than the stories I normally write, but perhaps more reflective of some of the things happening in reality. Please read and review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto

…

December 1, 2017. Kumo. 10.15am.

Yamanaka Ino scribbles on her notepad furiously. She is a journalist and editor for the Jikan magazine, one of the most well-read magazines in the world. Unlike the other women she is here with, Ino has had a good life. She grew up in a wealthy family, with parents who loved her and gave her the world and she is engaged to her high school sweetheart. She has had an easy life, but she is a woman who dreams. She dreams of a world that presents equal opportunities to women as they do men. She dreams of a world where girls will grow up believing they can be anything they want to be. She dreams of a world where boys are taught that women are just as capable as they are. Nothing about this speech is cliché, it is filled with brutal and painful honesty, spoken by someone who walked the walk before talking the talk. This woman, speaking before an entire school of young girls, was what epitomised true resiliency, showing these girls, and soon, when Ino's article is published, the world, what she is made of, and what girls and women should aspire to be.

"I will write in such a way that everybody who reads my article will let your words expand their mind and dreams."

Senju Tsunade is a woman who has lived through war. She is here because she has lived through a world of bloodshed and violence, a doctor serving in the war, saving lives, but denied the respect and recognition she deserved because she is a woman. Soldiers looked at her like she was prey, like she was nothing more than just a pretty face and big breasts whose sole purpose was to relieve them of their needs. But she stayed at her post and saved lives because that was her job. And one day she saved the life of a sergeant, a man who learned to see her not for how she was born, but for who she was. Tsunade's life has been one full of heartbreak and suffering, but it has only made her desire to fight and stand up for women that much stronger. She is here because she has a desire to show girls and women that they can be strong, resilient, kind, and graceful while dealing with negativity and hardship.

"Please don't ever doubt that you are cherished, that you are powerful and oh, so very deserving of every chance and opportunity that comes your way."

For Haruno Sakura, being here is a dream come true. For Sakura, everything happened slowly, and then all at once. She remembers the feeling of treading water while slogging through the quicksand that was fighting through being born a girl, working multiple jobs to put herself through school, and then dreaming and convincing the right people and finding the necessary funds, two years full of planning and sacrificing, and then success. This is her dream because she has grown up, neglected by her family, feeling worthless because she was born a girl. She had two older brothers who were smarter, stronger and better than her. So what if she was smart and had aspirations too, just like her brothers? She wouldn't get very far in this life because she was born a girl. This is her dream because somewhere along the way, she made it into medical school, she found a woman who believed in her and inspired her and took her under her wing, and she is now a successful doctor on her own right. As she watches Tsunade give her speech from the side lines, young girls beaming and smiling in the crowd and parents with tears in their eyes, hopeful and optimistic, she takes comfort in the fact that all of her efforts have been worth it.

"Thank you so much for showing me that my dreams are valid. I will build a school for girls, I will grant them an education where they are denied and I will tell them that they can have dreams, too."

Hyuuga Hinata wants to fight for women. She is here because she grew up believing that her only purpose in life was to serve a man. The men in her life have denied her respect, denied her dreams and denied her desires because she is a woman. And women only belonged in the kitchen and in the bedroom, and don't you dream, Hinata, because society does not want you. She is here because she met a man, one who told her she mattered, who told her she deserved an education and dreams and hope, who told her to fight for what she wanted and who helped her find her way in life. She has broken through the cage that is her past, she is a free woman, she has written a book about her life and her struggles and now she wants to make sure girls around the world get a chance to live too.

"If you want the world, work for it, fight for it, and you can have it. Don't ever let others tell you otherwise. Your dreams aren't intangible."

Tenten is a refugee. Was, a refugee. She has perhaps, had the most difficult life, out of all of these successful women here. She was only five when she witnessed the murder of her father and the rape of her mother, she was only five when she was taken from her home, sold into slavery. She was only seven when she planned an escape along with the other slaves she had befriended, she was only seven when she escaped alone and watched from the shadows as her friends were gunned down, one after another. She was only eight when she wandered from country to country, sneaking across borders until she made it to Konoha. She is here because Kumo is still her home. She is here because regardless of the blood and gore and violence in her past, she wants to fight for her home. Kumo is no more a refugee camp, it is now a small town, rebuilding and still struggling, but she is here because she wants to see it become something bigger. Something better. She doesn't know what she has done to deserve the help of these four incredible women, but she is thankful.

"Thank you all, so, so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you for helping me hold the door open for others' dreams."

…

November 25, 2017. Konoha. 3am.

She curls up against him, still basking in the glow of their love making, and sighs blissfully.

"I wish you could come with me."

He kisses the top of her head, arms tightening around her and he rubs small circles on the dip of her lower back.

"I know. I'm sorry." His voice is low and husky, and sends shivers up her spine.

She is overwhelmed with emotions and blinks back the tears. She knows he would be there if he could. Since they met, he has always been by her side, through everything. And this, this was her biggest success yet. This is what she has been striving for since before they met. But this month long business meeting in Suna is also what he has worked so hard for, and she won't deny him his own success.

…

December 1, 2017. Kumo. 12pm.

The speeches are done, and the young girls in the auditorium are mingling with each other, approaching the women in groups, giggling and hopeful and excited, because they now have a future. The cameras are still rolling, journalists still recording the events when the doors slam open.

Everything is still, deathly silent and there is shock as six men enter, dressed in black and red, and then everybody is screaming and crying and there is blood and death and it is chaos and everything everybody in the room was trying to leave behind.

Tenten is screaming. She barely recognises the sound escaping her lips, but she knows it's hers, from a time long gone. The once smooth sandstone walls are riddled with bullet holes, there are empty gun shells littering the floor, and there is so much blood. She can smell the gunpowder in the air and she can hear nothing except for the continuous _bang, bang, bang_ and she watches, almost in slow motion, as the children and women she has wanted to protect fall to the floor one by one. _Oh god, not again, not again, not again._

Hinata cannot feel the tears streaming down her face, but she knows they are there from the way her vision blurs every now and then. She is huddled in a janitor's closet backstage, five girls with her, and she is praying to any god who will listen to _please, please save these girls._ She doesn't understand what is happening, who these people are, or why they want them dead, but _girls, please, don't make a sound._ Her silent prayers die when the closet doors she is holding closed are pulled open by a man with blonde hair and blue eyes that remind her of _him._

Sakura's hands are shaking and she is hyperventilating but she pulls out the little pocket knife he makes her carry and slowly crawls towards one of the men whose back is facing her. With only the thought of survival she picks herself up and stabs him in his back, right where she knows he will die of blood loss, and struggles to take his gun off him. He hits her, hard, busting her lip, but she manages to take the gun off him. She shoots him, not once, not twice, but five times over, and then she feels something rip through her shoulder, something wet and sticky soaking her top and then she collapses, and the last thing that runs through her mind is _please help us_ and _I'm so glad you couldn't make it here today._

Tsunade is angry. Already, she can envision rows of tiny coffins and funerals nobody will attend. The blood and the screams remind her of the war she has been trying to forget, too many she couldn't save and today, she sees it all over again. Bodies of little girls she wanted to inspire and women she wanted to empower. She is furious, and what does she have to lose? So with strength she didn't know she possessed she picks up a table and hurtles it towards the gunmen. She doesn't stop until one of them comes up behind her and grabs her roughly by her hair, bashing her face repeatedly against the wall. As pain engulfs her and her body falls prey to sweet oblivion, she hopes that _if_ she survives, _please don't take my voice away._ Because her voice is a voice that empowers, a voice that encourages, a voice that teaches, and without her voice she is as good as dead.

Ino feels the panic in her chest, tightening and squeezing and it is so hard to breathe. She is herding a group of girls down the hall. How she has managed to lead them out through the back door with no one noticing she doesn't know, but nothing in her life has prepared her for this. All her life she has been sheltered, protected, safe, and _no harm will come to you, Ino, because mummy and daddy will always protect you._ She brings one hand up to her mouth to stifle the cries that are desperate to escape, because right now, she is the one protecting. The lump in her throat is painful and the tears are burning her eyes, she has long taken off her six inch heels. She is sweaty, her normally immaculate hair dishevelled and she is sure her makeup is running and she cannot recognise her own voice when she screams _run girls and don't look back, run!_ when someone yanks on her ponytail, hard, and she stumbles backwards.

…

November 28, 2017. Konoha. 5am.

It is just before dawn, and the sky is filled with blended tones of rosy pinks and golden yellows. The cemetery is cool and there is dew on the grass. The air is fresh, and the magnolia tree that is her shade is in full blossom. She bends down, fingers tracing the edges of black granite, and she reads the gold lettering. _War hero. Beloved husband. Brave, kind, faithful. Taken too early, but never forgotten._ The feel of the stone on her skin brings her some piece. He had always, and now, even in death, always been her north, her south, her east, and her west. She lays down white lilies, and tells him that she will be flying tomorrow. They will fly to Oto, then it will be a three hour drive to reach Kumo. They will bring and give hope, and oh, how she wishes he could be there to see her do this. There will be fancy speeches from all of them just before the ribbon cutting ceremony, there will be smiles and laughter and hope, and there will be journalists there to capture every moment, and the better half of her doesn't dare believe that it is all happening. And as she lets the breeze carry her voice into the heavens, the sun breaches the horizon and the sky explodes with a myriad of beautiful colours, and she knows that he is watching over her, just like he has been for the last ten years.

…

December 1, 2017. Kumo. 2.30pm.

She can barely move her body. She knows her face is blooming purple and there is congealed blood on her temple, but her head is clear. Five of the most prolific women from Konoha are here in this clean, unmarred room, left alive and kidnapped after a shooting in a school built from charity. For what reasons, she doesn't yet know, but she wants to laugh at the irony of their situation. Here they are, women, trying to empower other women, and yet, fear is pungent in the room, rolling off them in waves. There is a journalist's camera in the front of the room, filming them, she is sure, as they sit tied to metal chairs. Her mouth twists downwards in a frown, and she wishes there was a blindfold obscuring her sight.

Sakura looks to be the worst of them all, physically. Blood is flowing thickly from what is undoubtedly a gunshot wound in her left shoulder, dyeing her baby blue top red and she hopes that if they get out of here alive, they will be able to save her arm. Her pink hair is tumbled over her face, obscuring it her view, but she can see the ragged breaths she takes to control the pain. _Determined._ Tsunade is so, so proud to call Sakura her student. Her drive and her determination has always been a constant force that is Sakura, always been one of her most defining qualities. Always fearless, and she knows, no matter how unpredictable the chances of their survival, Sakura will still believe, and if they survive, with or without her left hand, she will still be a doctor.

Tenten's eyes are wide, unblinking, illuminated by the tears silently rolling down her cheeks. _Broken._ This, she thinks, is inevitable. She has not had a sheltered life, has had to protect herself from people with guns and has had to watch people around her die as they fought to achieve a freedom that should have been theirs. And no matter how much she has healed, it is as inevitable as the simple fact that the sun will rise that this situation will break her. But if there is one truth Tsunade knows like the back of her hand, it is that recovering is possible. And it is beautiful. There is art and beauty in it, and just like _Kintsukuroi_ , Tenten, when recovered, will be more beautiful for having been broken.

Ino is contemplating. She is mumbling to herself, trying to figure out what she has just seen and why she has seen what she saw. Her brows are furrowed and her lips pursed in a firm line, and she wonders if this is anger. She watches as her expressions change as she tries to decipher their actions, and then something inside of Tsunade clicks. _No, this, this is not anger._ Ino is _sad._ But she will embrace this heartbreak and feel a catharsis through it, and Tsunade knows that if they get out of here alive, she will write an article so beautiful, so heart breaking, so terrifying; and it _may_ just be a cause for change.

"Don't give up." It comes in a quiet whisper, but Tsunade knows the other girls hear her.

Hinata is scared, the way her whole body trembles makes it obvious, but she has not given up on her faith. She has learned to _heal_ herself, she has learned to look past the hurt and rejection and she is finally free, and "We are stronger together." These words she utters in quiet _faith_ bring tears to Tsunade's honey glazed eyes and she knows who has given Hinata this strength, and she knows that in turn they are all relying on her strength. Because what did they have left if they didn't believe in tomorrow?

...

November 20, 2017. Konoha. 7pm.

"I know people will judge. They will say we come from two different worlds. But I'll be damned if I let them tell me that we don't deserve each other."

She is flattered, excited, nervous. It is extremely public, nothing like the quiet, private occasion she had imagined in her mind a thousand times over, and she is filled with a bizarre sense of adventure. Him, dark hair, dark eyes and in his favourite dark shirt, is down on one knee, holding out a ring with a diamond that doesn't sparkle quite as much as her friends will expect, but he is _smiling_ just for her and she can tell that he is nervous too.

Tears well up in her eyes as she extends her left hand.

"Are you going to put it on for me, or do I have to do it myself?"

He rolls his eyes. Even in a moment like this, she is demanding. But he wouldn't have her any other way.

…

December 1, 2017. Kumo. 3.11pm.

They are on TV. It is broadcasting live, so they are told. And she prays that he is not watching. These men call themselves Akatsuki. She has never heard of them until today, and wonders if she could have been more ignorant.

She feels his fingers dig into her cheek, hard, and she knows they will bruise and discolour her skin instantly. Her scream is stifled. He doesn't speak, doesn't tell her not to fight or not to make a sound. His fingers do all the work, threatening to break her jaw if another sound were to leave her lips. She strains against the zip ties, and she feels her blood dripping down her wrist, running over the translucent plastic, bathing white red. She closes her eyes as he presses a gun to her temple, body trembling and heart hammering in her chest.

Another man approaches her and puts pressure on her bleeding shoulder, trying to stop the blood flow before he messily ties some gauze over it. In her mind, she is calculating the amount of time she has before she succumbs to blood loss, and wonders if they will be able to save her arm if they find her in time. Because Tsunade would be able to.

"Sorry, blossom. Someone should've stopped the bleeding a long time ago. Jashin-sama wouldn't be pleased if you bled out right now."

"Shut up, Hidan. This is the fucking bitch that killed Zetsu. She needs to pay for that."

A sob escapes from Tenten on her right, and she jumps at the deafening _bang_. And all of a sudden everyone is screaming, and Sakura is too afraid to look. Her ears are ringing and she feels the splatter of blood on her face and arms, and instantly the burn in her eyes give way and tears stream down her face. As she hears a heavy thud, _a body,_ she tells herself, Sakura thinks she might vomit, her saliva thickening in her mouth to a rancid paste. This situation they've found themselves in should only exist on another plain of intangibility, beyond the realm of inconceivable scenarios.

"Aawwwww, hush now. He deserved to be punished. We don't use profanities around here," someone says, voice high pitched and too jovial for an occasion such as this. And then it turns serious, dark and almost sinister. "But ladies, don't make a sound unless we order you to if you don't want to end up like that."

…

November 29, 2017. Konoha. 8.30am.

There is an insatiable longing in his eyes as he kisses her goodbye.

"You," he says, pulling away slightly to rub his nose against hers affectionately, "make me so proud." Another kiss. He doesn't move his hand from her waist.

He is her sun. Him being here, in her life, is enough to allow her to shed all her doubts, all her fears, and believe in herself. He brings one hand behind her head, pressing it into the crook between his neck and shoulder and she thinks that he smells faintly of cup ramen.

"You'll watch us on TV?"

"Of course, dattebayo! I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

…

December 1, 2017. Kumo. 6.11pm.

The camera is still rolling, recording, and she isn't sure if they are still broadcasting, but Ino hopes.

"If anyone…if anyone is watching, please, help us," it is impossible to stop her voice from cracking or the tears from falling, but she doesn't stop. "We're in Kumo, I don't know exactly where we are. We were in a school, for an opening ceremony." Tenten starts again, heaving sobs tearing from her throat and Ino wishes she would stop. "It's called Hope's School for Girls. We must be…kami…we must be an hour or two away from it. We were…umm…we were taken in a black van. And…I…We have…we have one injured…she…she's losing a lot of blood, so please. Please, please, please hurry."

Ino feels every inch of the zip tie digging into her wrists. Her ankles are bound to the metal chair only by rope, and she wonders if there is a possibility of escape. Hinata, who is next to her, is also eyeing the ropes on her feet.

"Ino, do you think…?"

She takes in the room. Paint is chipping off the walls, and there is only one way in; the door in the far corner. But there is something that looks like a boarded up window in the upper left wall. It would be a squeeze, but she is certain that they will all be able to fit through the window. She strains her ears and cannot hear a single sound other than their heavy breathing and Tenten's sobs. It is ridiculous to hope but she hopes there is no one standing guard outside. Men always had the tendency to underestimate women, and no one had checked on them in what she estimated to be over an hour, she hopes that the Akatsuki are the same, predictable men they knew.

Ino's eyes meet Tsunade's. It's a big risk, one that might jeopardise their safety even more, but they can only rely on themselves now. She doesn't know if anybody in Konoha or Oto have watched the live broadcast, she doesn't know where they are, but the one thing she is certain of is that it will take too long for someone to locate them. And as she takes in Sakura's pale lips and shivering form, she knows it is a risk they have to take.

"We have no choice."

She begins to struggle, using all the force she can muster until she topples over sideways, and there is a loud echo of metal meeting cold cement. She winces as she hits the ground, her left arm and leg pressed painfully against the cold floor, as is her left cheek, and they wait silently with bated breaths. When nobody comes for them after ten minutes, Tsunade is the first to let out a sigh of relief.

Hinata repeats this process, and after another ten minutes, nobody comes and she begins to feel something like tentative hope blossoming in the depths of her heart. She somehow manages to pull herself closer to Ino, and with her teeth, she tries to loosen the zip tie around her wrists. Desperate tears roll down her cheeks as the zip tie occasionally cuts into her, but she thinks of them and she thinks of _him_ and she doesn't stop. And after what feels like agonizing hours, when her gums and lips are cut and bloody and raw, she feels the zip tie begin to steadily loosen and then Ino's wrists are moving, wriggling until she is able to squeeze them out one by one, and Hinata cannot hold back her sobs. Because there the tentative glimmer of hope is sprouting, growing in her heart like a current rising from the ground, there is the _maybe, possibly, hopefully_ tomorrow, surging through her mind and body, and she takes deep breaths to steady herself as she watches Ino untie herself through blurry eyes.

…

November 15, 2017. Konoha. 7pm.

She is sitting on the kitchen stool, legs swinging, as she sips on a cup of hot chocolate. She watches as he moves around the kitchen, long hair flowing with his every movement as he prepares their anniversary dinner.

She sighs contentedly at this new life she has found. Here she is, a survivor. Here she is, in a quaint little three bedroom house she calls home. Here she is, married to a man who fights for peace. Here she is, on her first wedding anniversary, sipping on a cup of hot chocolate while her husband makes her dinner, heart glowing at the possibility that she might be pregnant. She hasn't taken the tests yet, but her period is two weeks late, and she _hopes._

And when he comes to stand in front of her, leaning over the counter until their breaths mingle, pearly eyes boring into hers with so much _love_ , she laughs before pulling him into a chaste kiss.

…

December 1, 2017. Suna. 4.17am.

He wakes up to the persistent vibrations of his phone on the bedside table. Slowly and reluctantly, he blinks the sleep from his eyes, groaning as he rolls over and reaches for his phone.

"What?"

"Sasuke. I sent you a link. You need to see it now."

He pulls himself up, leaning against the headboard.

"Can't this wait? You know the meeting's tomorrow."

"It's Sakura."

And there is a sudden clarity in his mind and his eyes that were leaden with sleep snap open violently. He recognizes the pressing urgency in Kakashi's voice and hangs up immediately. With trembling fingers, he opens the link to the live broadcast.

…

December 1, 2017. Konoha. 3.45am.

The early morning summon is normally unexpected, but not today. Neji and his team stand at attention in Jiraiya's office, and the tension in the room is suffocating. Neji clenches and unclenches his fists and his stomach is bubbling with uncontrollable rage. Even the usually bubbly Naruto is quiet, muscles tense, blue eyes hard.

"Now that we've all seen the video, you know why I'm sending you. You will have two objectives. Rescue all five women, and bring back at least one Akatsuki member alive. We don't have their exact location yet, but intelligence will work on that as you make your way to Kumo."

"Hai."

Jiraiya looks at Neji and Naruto, eyes hard, but filled with concern.

"Hyuuga. Uzumaki. I need to know you won't let your feelings get in the way of this mission."

They both nod rigidly, jaws clamped shut. Neji wants to tell Jiraiya that he has a _wife_ and a _cousin_ and Naruto has a _lover_ and how could the old man tell them to put their feelings behind them? But he is the commander of Konoha's best ANBU Black Ops team, he has some of the most amazing men he knows he can trust with his life and he knows a cool head will lead to a successful mission.

They make their way to the military jet, his responsibilities weighing far heavier than it has ever before, and the straps of his backpack digging sharply into his shoulders are his only relief.

"Taichou. We'll get them back."

…

December 1, 2017. Konoha. 3.55am.

Her cries are primal. Hysterical in such a desolate way and Shikamaru isn't sure if he can bare to listen for long. He received a phone call from Naruto at 3.40am, and he remembers thinking as he looked at the caller ID that it is _too early_ for Naruto. Listening to Ino's mum brings his own pain to the surface, and as he holds onto his phone, knuckles white, he is secretly thankful that he cannot see a drop of blood on her.

He puts a shaky hand around her, willing his own tears not to fall. He had to be strong for her. As his shirt dampens with her tears and his body shakes with the ferocity of her cries, he swallows the silent scream burning his throat.

 _Bring her home, Naruto. Bring them home, damnit._

…

December 1, 2017. Kumo. 6.33pm.

Tsunade takes off her shirt, leaving her only in bra, but right now she doesn't care for modesty. She hastily puts Sakura's left arm into a sling, and is pleased to see that the bleeding has ceased somewhat. But there is too much blood loss, and it will take a skilled surgeon and a lot of therapy to save her arm.

They are all huddled in a little circle, discussing their escape. Ideas are starting to knit together and Tsunade allows a small smile to grace her lips. They are a mess, clothes ripped and stained, hair frazzled, mascara smudged, red rimmed eyes and dry tear tracks and blood and grime and sweat. She has seen them through sleepless nights, fumbling into meetings with spilled coffees, she has seen them through messy documents peeking out of handbags, seen them through shots of sake as they celebrate and the horrible morning after hangovers, seen them cry and scream and argue in frustration, but Tsunade thinks that she has never seen them look more _human_ than right now.

They have a plan, and now all they need to do is execute it and pray that it works. She stands on her tiptoes on the metal chair, prying at the wooden planks that cover up the windows. Her fingers are scratched and cut and bloody, she has broken a few nails and her arms are starting to get heavy, but she manages to get one of the planks off. She feels smug at this little victory, and through the narrow opening she has created she is treated to a prim bombardment of fiery colours in the sky, and the majestic last rays of the sinking sun is enough to leave her longing for tomorrow. They have made it this far and she is sure they can make it until dawn.

…

December 1, 2017. Kumo. 6.58pm.

Hinata scrambles through the window, and it is Sakura's turn next. Half her body is through when the door behind them is thrown open with a violent slam and she knows that she will not make it. There is no feeling in her left arm and with it now in a sling, it is even harder to manoeuvre through the tiny window. Even with Hinata trying to pull her out, it is difficult. She knows she has lost too much blood and right now, she is only a liability. Going through the window last had made most sense. She is a liability to their escape, but she can buy them time.

She cannot help but think how much she loves these women. She loves how, despite all of their circumstances, they somehow met, like tiny elements coming together, and it's fulfilled her in ways she never thought possible. She thinks about the little, insignificant moments she's spent with Sasuke. Sitting on the couch with their legs tangled while they watch her favourite movies. Exploring little streets and stumbling upon new cafes with orange tablecloths and beautiful muffins. Convincing him to take the subway once a month. What the world would see as insignificant moments are moments filled with tiny, itty bitty elements that make her heart full.

And then there is the rough tug on her legs she has been expecting, and she struggles with the little energy she has left, and relishes in the feel of her foot hitting something with a sickening snap. Then there is a cry of "You little bitch" and the tugging on her legs are more aggressive, harder, and as she loses her grip on Hinata's hand she catches sight of her pearly, tear filled eyes, and she is dragged downwards, head hitting the cold floor. Beads of tears are rolling down her cheeks and her vision swims, world turning into a blur and the screams in the background are distant. She feels nothing except the violent tug on her hair and everything darkens into nothingness as she passes into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

…

December 1, 2017. Kumo. 7.13pm.

The sky plunges into an ominous darkness as the sun is swallowed by the horizon. There are no stars, no moon; obscured by dense clouds. It is eerily quiet, save for Hinata's muffled sobs and the occasional leaf fluttering and twig snapping, and Tenten thinks that the darkness might just swallow her whole.

"I let her go…I…Sakura…I…I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm…" Hinata's whispers are soft, broken, and Tenten feels guilt edge into her consciousness, shame and embarrassment outweighing fear.

Ino has her arms around Hinata, trying to soothe her, telling her Sakura would be okay, and Tsunade is trying to navigate their way out of this godforsaken forest. And here she is, indulging in self-pity. Here they are, all caught in the same situation, and everyone but her is coping. Ino and Hinata got them free, Tsunade got them out, and Sakura sacrificed herself by going last. And here she is, giving in to her fears and her past, taking everything that comes because it is inevitable like the way chewed up gum sticks to concrete.

Her hands clench into tight fists. "And what about me?"

"Tenten, what –?"

"I said what about me? Hinata has nothing to be sorry for! I've done nothing but cower and tremble in fear since they came into the school! All of you fought so hard, and I –"

"It's not your fault! We can't always control how –"

"Yes we can! All of you did _something,_ damnit! All of you but me! And now we've lost Sakura! It should've been me –"

She doesn't feel anything when Tsunade's hand connects with her cheek in an open handed slap. She staggers backwards, hand cupping her check, feeling the red welt Tsunade left behind, and tears of shame roll down her cheeks.

"Don't you fucking say that again. The only way for us to save Sakura is to get out of here and alert the authorities. And if we don't keep moving they're going to find us and we'll all be dead. So I need you to get your fucking head straight, and be the Tenten that we all know and need."

And then it dawns on her that she didn't survive the countless battles just so she could give up on herself and on her girls.

…

December 1, 2017. Kumo. 7.42pm.

She jumps at the sound of a twig snapping behind them, and she knows they are close. Too close. The others hear it too, and in an instant, they are running. Tree branches stretch out in front of her, a cavern of distorted limbs reaching out to grab her. Her clothes and hair are slick with sweat, and cling uncomfortably to her skin. Her lungs are on fire, begging for her to stop, gulping in selfish breaths of air, and her knees feel like rubber. The cold air bites at her face and stings her eyes, and every part of her feels like it will break if she doesn't stop, but she is afraid of what is behind them. Tears blind her as she forces her legs to move faster, sticks and stones and leaves crunching noisily underneath her with echoes matching the pounding of her heart.

…

December 1, 2017. Kumo. 7.31pm.

The first thing she notices as she rouses are the new restraints on her wrists. They are tied down to the armrests of a chair, and she doesn't know if she cannot move her hands because they are so tight or if she simply has no fight left in her. Her clothes feel damp, and she squints in confusion as she takes in the damp, white cotton dress she is now wearing. She wonders if she is dreaming, but the rough tug on her hair tells her otherwise.

"Morning, blossom."

She looks up with bleary eyes, taking in his appearance. Was his name Hidan? She does not remember, but she zeros in on the scalpel in his hand and immediately squeezes her eyes shut.

"You broke my nose trying to escape. That wasn't very nice of you," he says, grip still tight on her hair as he traces the knife down the edge of her cheeks and down the slope of her neck, and she whimpers. Her lashes brimmed heavy with tears, and _please don't cry, please don't cry, please don't cry_ runs through her mind like a mantra.

"Jashin-sama says it's time. I'm sorry it had to be you, blossom. But," he says, gesturing to the camera in front of them, "The rest of the world values your sacrifice."

She doesn't know who Jashin-sama is, but all she can do is let out a strangled scream as the blade of the scalpel digs into her right arm, dragging downwards in slow motion until it stops just before her wrist. She bites her tongue in a vain attempt to keep quiet.

"You're a doctor, aren't you? Well…not anymore, with both hands damaged, but I thought a scalpel would be fitting."

She watches as he runs his hands over her blood, breathing in deeply and tongue flicking out to lick his lips.

"Jashin-sama likes it this way, blossom. He likes it most when his victims watch their own blood flowing out before the real pain starts. And I like hearing mine scream." His bloody fingers grasp her chin in a bruising grip and his eyes meet hers, and she shivers at the wild, feral look in them. "So do me a favour, and fucking scream."

…

December 1, 2017. Kumo. 7.51pm.

The sound of their own footfalls are silent. This is what they are trained to do. Chase, and hunt. He grits his teeth at the rookie mistake he had made, letting hope and excitement get the better of him. But the group in front of them is slowing down, he can smell their exhaustion, they are getting louder, more desperate, and as he makes out a faint silhouette in front of him, he forces his legs faster and launches himself at it.

He tackles someone and they fall to the ground in a heavy heap, only a strangled cry escaping his prey. Naruto is quick to straddle _her,_ pointing a gun to her head with one hand while his other restrains hers. And then a scream tears through her like a shard of glass, and she is crying and sobbing inconsolably, and his blue eyes widen as blood drains from his face.

"Hi…Hinata?

…

December 1, 2017. Kumo. 7.33pm.

His tears are tangible now. _Please, don't kill her._ There are so many, too many things he wants to do with her. Sasuke has always been one to accept challenges, but losing her will be one he cannot overcome. He wishes that he could rewrite the stars, change fate, he wishes he could have followed her to Kumo. He cannot stop her dreams, but he could have protected her.

As he stares at her too glassy eyes, bruised and bloody skin and trembling body, he makes a silent promise to kiss every wound on her broken heart until she forgets she was broken, he will take her the on silly evening picnics she loves so they can listen to the crickets sing their melodies as the sun goes down. If she cannot be a doctor he will somehow make it happen. Anything and everything she asks of him will be granted, so _please Sakura, don't give up right now_ and _Hyuuga, dobe, I'm counting on you._

…

December 1, 2017. Kumo. 7.57pm.

Sakura wonders if this is what death tastes like. It is all at once salty, like the tears rolling down her cheeks, bitter, as the taste of pills, sour, as the unripe mangoes that Sasuke favoured, sweet, as memories of her life flash through her eyes.

 _Sasuke._ She remembers everything that has his name etched to it. She remembers every word, every tear, every look, every touch, because she knew from the moment she met him, he was special.

She can barely register the pain, her head is lolling back from the impact of his fist, angry because she is not screaming, and all she can see through her tears is the colour red.

She decides she is in between death and not yet, and as the door is suddenly thrown open, she weakly turns her head to the intruders and when she sees him, she thinks that in between death and not yet, she has found hope. She has found solace. _Neji._

...


End file.
